


The Aftermath - Sequel to "The Confession"

by he_wants_to_write



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel/Human Relationships, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Humanity (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel is Loved (Supernatural), Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Loved, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Sequel, angst destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-08-13 16:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/he_wants_to_write/pseuds/he_wants_to_write
Summary: Castiel left and broke Dean's heart, leading him into a life with no turning back.Sequel to "The Confession", which can be found in my page.





	1. left broken

All it took was a year for Dean Winchester to make decisions that would change the course of his life forever. All the things he had learn to see and deal with, all the real monsters, different from the ones living inside his head, it made him a tougher man, he thought.

However, it was hard to keep his body standing every time he thought about Castiel. His heart would ache until he couldn't bare with the pain of his departure and breakdown. He made a barrier in his mind, protecting himself from the danger of loving him.

Their dream home had become a mess of scattered piles of books, weapons, guns, drawings of beasts and creatures. Blood stains took place of portraits on the walls, which Dean was not bothered to clean anymore. The grass on their yard was grey, the bed was never made again and the kitchen had no more use, since Dean was always on the road. The place was neglected, reflecting the way Dean felt about life since Cas left.

He ditched the ring, started to sleep around, drink and try anything that would distract him, make him numb until he forgot about the angel who broke his heart.

He found peace in violence, he found comfort in killing monsters. He actually turned out to be very good at it. It became common knowledge to not mess with the Winchester. The only positive thing he had managed to feel was the feeling of helping people. He couldn't deny the satisfaction of making his mark on the world by saving innocent souls from the monsters that go bump in the night. Maybe that was his motive for not ending it all, at the end of the day.

But the course of his tormented story changes in another casual day of hunting, where he stumbles upon a lead that would maybe reunite him from his lost lover.

And honestly, Dean didn't know if he wanted to see Castiel again.


	2. job

"Son of a bitch." Dean cursed as the vampire's blood was splashed all over the Impala's hood. "Not a good idea to chop off your head so close to my Baby." He spoke to the beheaded body of the monster, kicking his head on the floor, watching his mouth open and close and his fangs disappear into his gums.

He picked the head with disgust and threw on a box, wrapped his body on plastic and threw both objects on the trunk of his car. In a few minutes he was driving away with the cadaver, finding a good place to burn it moments later. As soon as all the remains of the vampire were turned into dust, the hunter sat down at his car and cleaned his hands before unpacking a burger, salivating at the sign of his dinner.

On the rear view mirror, he didn't recognized fully the man staring back at him. He was covered in blood stains and got lazy at shaving earlier. His eye bags reflected the difficulty of ending the whole nest of vampires all night long. He refused to look at himself for too long, turning his eyes to the diary on the passenger seat.

Putting his burger aside, he flipped through the thick pages, each one covered with helpful information he had collected with research and other hunters along the past year.

A picture of him and Cas laid carelessly on the last page. The markings on the paper showed the countless times it had been folded and the yellow tips proved the age of that photo. It was taken a few days after they first met, years ago.

Dean didn't want to study Castiel's features, but something magnetized his glaze to the image. It has always been that way, and Dean never hated the feeling until now.

He closed the diary and threw it on the backseat, not caring to see where it would land. He finished his dinner and drove away, not sure to where the roads would take him.

•

The next morning, Dean left the motel, paying it with one of his many stolen credit cards, carrying his bag that no one suspected was filled with weapons.

The hunter received a call from an unknown number as soon as he started to drive away and entered a large road. Hesitant, he picked up, hearing an unfamiliar deep voice.

"Hi Dean."

He frowned, confused at the british accent speaking back to him. "Who's this?"

"We haven't met yet, but I for sure have heard a lot of you. The infamous Winchester."

He got annoyed at the tone and talked back, expecting nothing to come out from the call. "Listen, I don't know who you are, so-"

"So let me speak, will you?" The man interrupted from the other side of the phone. Dean raised his brows at the stranger's attitude. "I need to talk to you, in person. I need your help with a matter that is making my royal ass itch."

Dean chuckled, extremely confused and annoyed. "Who the fuck are you?" He asked.

"Meet me in the address I'll text you, right now. Promise, you'll get rewarded." Before the hunter could make any more questions, the call was ended, leaving Dean confused and not happy at all with the weird demands. His phone vibrates as the so said text came, the address flashing on the screen. He had mixed feelings about it, but soon changed courses to go to the meeting place. He always took risks after all. That's his job.


	3. meet the king

The Impala was parked across the street of the said place. It was a big warehouse, painted with a fading black color, and no one around seemed to pay attention to the irregular building.

He collected his gear; demon knife on his coat's inside pocket and a gun on his belt. He would have to be safe after all, since he had no idea who it was, or maybe, what it was.

The hunter entered the place with adrenaline on his veins, his limbs ready if he needed to attack at any second; it wouldn't have been the first time someone tried to set a trap for him.

However, he was received by two men who came behind a wall, dressing cheap suits and a scared expression on their faces. "Winchester." One of them said, trembling.

Dean didn't respond, just examined their figures. He had a weird feeling about them.

"Come with us. The king is waiting." The same guy talked, turning his back and heading further into the building. Dean hesitantly followed, looking around at the dirty place. It remembered a dungeon from the ancient times.

They walked for a few minutes until arriving in a big room, where more people like them were standing and turned back to look at Dean. He tried not to feel intimidated under so many strange stares. He focused on the small figure of a man with a black dressings, sitting on what seemed to be a throne. He guessed that it was the man on the phone, and his guess was proved right the moment he spoke.

"Dean Winchester-" the familiar british accent filled the room with the echo of his voice. He stopped a few meters away from the man, not knowing for sure what to say or do. "Hope you enjoyed the place. The decor is a work is progress but in my humble opinion, less is more." He smirked, and Dean felt already annoyed at the stranger.

"Straight to the point." Dean dared to say with a single breath, receiving a wider smirk from the sitting man.

"No time for small talk, I see. Sure. Let's talk business." The man stood up and paced towards Dean, who kept his posture firm, denying to show any kind of interest or fear.

"First of all, I'm Crowley." The british man raised his hand towards the Winchester, waiting for a handshake that never came. He drew his hand back. Green eyes glanced in dismay at the short man. "As tough as everyone says. Didn't think you would have manners anyway."

The hunter rolled his eyes, incredibly annoyed. "You talk too much for a small guy."

Crowley grinned, eyes glued on Dean's. "My title makes up for my stature. I'm king. In fact, king of Hell." He flickered his eyes completely black, watching Dean's pupils grow with the sight of threat.

The hunter was fast to pull his demon knife from the inside of his jacket and point it's tip towards the shorter man. He heard demons around him start to move, but Crowley raised his palm and they all stood still in their place.

"Let's all calm down, shall we?" He didn't change his tone as he paced around Dean, who followed the demon with the knife in front of him. "I know you don't work with demons-"

"Damn right." Dean hissed, his grip is firm on the weapon.

"But, what I'm going to offer is a trade. I am in need of an hunter like yourself to do some work for me. Just another case for you, really."

The hunter then laughed. His chuckles echoed through the walls of that disgusting and dirty structure; demons glanced at each other in confusion.

"Are you thinking that I'm gonna make a deal with a demon?" He asked, his voice tone lower than his laugh. "You can shove it."

Crowley grinned once again, this time, with eyes closed in annoyance. Dean turned his back to him, committed to walk right out of that place. Demons around him only stared, as he walked loosely, but still holding the knife. He knew he was in smaller number in there, but he was good.

Just as he is about to step out the long room, he heard Crowley's deep voice break the silence.

"Angels."

And that word got Dean stuck. The floor seemed to have opened up a hole, that's how his stomach felt hearing it. He turned around, slowly, his mind screaming for him to get out.

"Word goes around that you hate the kind. That's why I looked for you. That's why I called you."

"I'm listening." Dean already regretted giving attention to the king of Hell, but he needed this. He was sure that he did.

"If you haven't noticed, Hell is not so great. Heaven's isn't in good shape either. However-"

Crowley sat back down on his "throne", confident now that he had grabbed the hunter's attention.

"-I've heard plans of a war between Heaven and Hell. Angels are forming their armies, not so big since the fall, but still. The war is happening here, on Earth. Now think, millions of innocents, dying for this - I'd say - pointless combat."

The Winchester felt his chest get heavier with each second that passed. He knew he shouldn't be there.

"I have locations of places where the angels are keeping their base. Demons and monsters can't get in or get close to it but you-"

He pointed at Dean.

"You can."

He smiled and the hunter felt sick to his stomach. "What do you want me to do, end them all?"

"Oh no, that would be nearly impossible. But you could try. All I want is their armies weakened. Their bases destroyed. I want their leader dead." He spoke, voice deep and determined.

Dean shivered. "What's in it for me, besides getting to kill angels?"

"You'll get protection from my demons too. And, after all is done, we can settle on a better payment. But for now that's all I got to offer. Like I said, Hell's not doing so great. So what do you say?"

Dean knew this was the worst decision he was about to make. Every fiber of his body told him how wrong this was, how dirty it he would feel, doing a demon's work.

But he felt like this was his chance to maybe, just maybe, find him. Find Castiel.

Dean lowered the knife.

"Where do I start?"


	4. information

He hated himself for it, but he hated himself even more for making this decision with Castiel on his mind.

The blue eyed angel that ruined him. Sam and Bobby had lost track of Dean, who would, once a month, make a call for one of them, and lie to them over and over again so he doesn't have to revel the truth about the world they were living in.

Sam was about to graduate, and that made Dean extremely proud. It was bittersweet, seeing his brother grow up and achieve so much, but not being able to keep in touch with him as much as he wanted. Distance hurt him. And it all started with Castiel.

The green eyed hunter didn't know if it was love or anger that was driving him into this mission.

He would find out as soon as he found the angel.

His angel.

•

Dean found himself standing in the same position he has been portraying during the past year. An abandoned barn, weapon in his hands and anger on his heart. The hunter paced around the chair, which contained an tied up angel, holy oil burning around them in a big circle. 

"I'm going to ask nicely once again." Dean hissed, pointing the tip of the angel blade towards the trapped celestial creature, who flinched at the sight. "Where is your leader?" He questioned, sounding more like an affirmation than a request.

The angel shook his head, frustration written all over his features. The hunter felt a drip of sweat roll down his neck, skin hot from the holy fire. "I don't know." 

Adrenaline ran through Dean's veins as he ran the long blade along the angel's sternum, watching blue light appear from the cut as he screamed in pain. 

"I swear!" 

"Yeah, right," Dean smirked. "Because someone would organize a whole fucking war and not know where to find the commander of it all." 

The creature breathed erratically, from either fear or pain. Or both. "Y-Yes! Only the higher tier angels know! I-I'm just a soldier."

Dean slashed the angel's flesh again, deeper this time. 

He yelled. "I swear! Please," 

The hunter felt frustrated; he knew the angel was telling the truth. He would have already broken by now. "So tell me were the base is located."

"There are at least twenty bases scattered!"

"Well," Dean approached the angel close enough to feel him breathing rapidly. "Then I want the location of all of 'em." He hissed, intimidatingly. 

After a few cities were named, Dean knew the angel had no more information to give and ended him. The angel blade pierced his heart, the light coming from his face becoming too familiar to Dean. He remembered the first time he saw it; Castiel killing the angels in their house. He remembered trembling in fear, hands shaking as he held Castiel. Dean shook the image off his mind, too scared it would hurt him again.

The angel was dead, the holy fire was put out and Dean picked up his phone, dialing the "666" number. He rolled his eyes. "Can't believe I'm working for this douche." He mumbled to himself, before hearing the familiar voice pick up. 

"Dean! What a delight."

"Cut the crap, Crowley. I got information."


	5. the talk

There were really a lot of bases to check. Even after the damage of the fall, the angels were still soldiers, desperate to be led and to obey, extremely organized and loyal. If they only were loyal for the good reasons, Dean thought. They were supposed to protect human kind, but here they were, slaughtering innocent lives that were caught in the middle of their useless battle. 

Dean leaned against the front seat of the Impala, the bloody angel blade rested onto top of his thighs, covered by his stained jeans. Another base broken into; he took out a few angels, but there was no sign of the leader or useful information. He sighted and wondered if Castiel was ever an angel to love and protect humans. The time between the news of his lover being an angel and his departure was so short, Dean didn't have time to make a lot of questions, and he was full of them. He tried to bury it, knowing that maybe, he'll never get to see his blue eyed angel again; he secretly hoped that he would be at one of the bases he entered every day, but he also didn't know what his reaction would be if he found him. Would he be driven to kill him? Dean knew he wouldn't be able to. At least, not if his Castiel had become another blind soldier.

His thoughts were cut short by the ringing of his phone. He scoffed, expecting to see the too familiar '666' number across the screen; instead, it was his brother's name. 

He quickly picked it up. "Sam?" 

"Hey, Dean," He heard his brother speak, taking notice of his sibling's erratic breathing.

"You okay?" Dean questioned.

Sam chuckled. "No, actually."

A chill ran down Dean's spine. After becoming a hunter, being sure that Sam was safe was the hardest part of the job. "What's wrong?"

"Dean, I came by your house, the neighbors called me saying they haven't seen you in months and were starting to get concerned and,"

The hunter's face fell into his palm. He wished he would have sold the damn house and got rid of everything it was there. The sight must have been an shock to his little brother.

"What is going on? Why is there blood everywhere and books and piles of papers, and weapons, Dean," He noticed by Sam's tone of voice that he was on the verge of crying, confusion and fear mixed together caused his brother's heart to sink.

"Listen Sammy, we need to talk. I'll explain everything to you, I promise." Dean reassured, feeling his own chest sting by Sam's desperation. 

"Where are you? Where's Castiel?" 

The question knocked a short breath from the hunter. "I'll come clear, Sam. I need you to calm down right now. I'm fine, it's fine." The last sentence came more like a reassurance to himself than for Sammy. 

The green eyed hunter heard his brother breathe deeply on the phone. "Yeah, okay, I trust you. Just, tell me where you are." 

•

Dean had a hard time explaining to Sam why he was three states over in a crappy motel, with his car filled with gear, weapons and blood. He trembled to justify the tattoo that rested upon his chest for a year now. But it wasn't as near as hard as clarifying Castiel's whereabouts. He felt his heart ache at the sight of his little brother, sat across the motel bed, face buried in his palms and eyes traveling around the room, searching for anything to look at but Dean.

"This, this is all real?" The taller Winchester questioned. "Angels, demons, monsters, all of it? And you kill theses things?"

Dean nodded, not finding words anymore.

Sam shook his head, finally meeting his big brother's eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? You could have stayed with me. You could have stayed with Bobby!" He cried, standing up. "For the amount of blood in your house, I thought you were dead!"

"Well, I'm not. At least not yet." He let out a humorless chuckle. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't drag you into this mess. This life is disgusting and terrifying and not something I want for my little brother, okay?"

"But how am I suppose to be fine while my brother is out there murdering stuff that shouldn't even exist?!" Sam yelled in frustration. 

The hunter took a step back, holding his hands out towards Sam. "You wouldn't understand, Sammy. I was lost. Castiel simply left me and I couldn't sit around pretending that nothing happened!" 

Dean's sentence came out like a loud mumble, it was hard for him to admit that it hurt too badly when he lost Cas. Anger left Sam's eyes, sympathy taking its place. The air inside the room became thicker as the older Winchester attempted to hold back a single tear, but failing in the process; the hunter felt vulnerable, breaking down in front of his little brother. He was suppose to be the strong shell that kept Sam safe. But right now, it seemed like the other way around. 

Minutes passed in silence until Sam broke it. 

"Are you looking for him?"

And honestly, Dean didn't know the answer.


	6. mission

"Sam, I can't let you go with me."

Sam let out a short sigh. "Why not? I know how to use a gun. I can fight too."

Dean let his head drop in frustration as he started the car's engine, gripping the wheel with tight knuckles. "Yeah, but it's not humans, alright? Those are powerful, dangerous angels."

The younger Winchester shook his head, shifting in his passenger seat. "Castiel wasn't dangerous." He objected.

No, he wasn't, Dean thought to himself. 

You have so much going for you Sammy, I can't let one supernatural son of a bitch take it all away. If you get involved, people around you will start to get hurt. Even Jess."

The taller man groaned. Dean could be right. But he was still discontented with the situation. The Impala's engine sound echoed as the hunter began to drive away from the hotel, in the direction of Stanford.

"You're knees deep into this but I didn't get hurt still. Let me help you, Dean, please."

Sam begged until his big brother dropped him off on his college dorm. He was not going to let him get involved, never in this life. He had already lost enough; he was not going to live to see this life consume Sam to the bone. 

Castiel wasn't dangerous.

At least, Dean hoped he didn't become dangerous.

•

Another discreet building, one like the others; abandoned and silent. Dean had lost count of how many of these he had invaded, how many angels he had killed, and how many times he had called Crowley, just to tell him that nothing important came on. 

The hunter exhaled deeply, still sitting in his car, angel blade in one hand, another on the inside of his jacket and just in case, a gun in his belt. He mentally felt the weight of being armed to his teeth. He almost felt scared by himself. Almost.

Crowley had already texted him the secret entryway to that building in particular. His demons were useful at least for that. Grasping his weapon tightly, he left the car and walked quickly, but silently, towards the edifice, knowing exactly what it would look like on the inside. First, there was always an angel guarding the entryways from the inside, which he killed too easily. Secondly, a corridor, and usually more angels would show up, and taking a bit of a fight, he would end them too. Thirdly and lastly came the difficult part; entering the big room, constantly replete of celestial bastards that looked in his direction with a mixture of fear and defense.

Except this time, the third part was different. The space inside the building was smaller, and disorganized. He could count how many angels were there on his fingers. The walls weren't so white and the lights weren't so blinding. Maybe, this was the big shot.

As Dean knew, angels' eyes met his frame, firm and armed at the entrance. The hunter's chest rushed with adrenaline and he knew it was his time to strike. His knuckles were white from gripping the blade. 

"Winchester." He heard one angel mumble. He smirked.

"Damn right. Where's your leader?"

No one answered; instead, they pulled their own blades, placing feet and arms in fighting positions. 

"Protect the leader, Hannah!" An angel in the front yelled, and one behind the group ran towards the back of the building.

Oh, this is going to be interesting, Dean thought, before taking his first swings at the angel before him.


	7. blood, tears and Castiel

Dean never felt so defeated. 

He had ended more than twenty angels in just one day. He couldn't believe that only five managed to put him in this position right now. Maybe it was a bad day, or those angels were the "higher tier" he heard so much about. And boy, did they knew how to fight. 

"Tie him." One spoke, standing before the kneeling Winchester. He could feel the hot blood dripping from the side of his face and down his neck; the stings of at least a dozen cuts on his body and the ache on his muscles, it all made him nearly deaf from the world around him. 

He panted, glancing at the bloody angel blade dropped a couple feet away from him. However, even if he had the strength to make a run for it, he couldn't anymore; there was something wrapped around his wrists behind his back, and more of that stuff around his upper arms, also bounding them tightly against his back. 

"What do we do now?" The angel tying him questioned. 

He looked up, meeting the other creature's sharp eyes.

"Take it to him." 

"Him?" Dean stammered under his faltered breath. 

"Our leader, he'll know what to do with you." Then a pair of hands were lifting him up, his exhausted and bloody figure almost dragging itself out of the room. 

Dean's eyes traveled the space, desperately searching for a way out, but there was none. The blood drowned his throat for a second; he coughed, watching the angels chuckle and shove him mercilessly into a door, and inside a room. He would absolutely kill them when he became free of his bindings. He was already planning to absolutely kill them when he became free of his bindings. If he ever. 

He collapsed as the enemies pushed him, his body hitting the cold floor of the unknown room. The hunter heard the door being shut loudly as he managed to get up on his knees, arms still painfully bidden together. The floor underneath him was smeared with his own blood from where he had fell. 

"He's all yours, Castiel." 

If Dean wasn't numb with pain before, he for sure was now. His head and eyes snapped up, his hands closed together in fists and his lungs locked inside a holding breath. The hunter felt his mouth go dry, even if he was practically swallowing his own blood by now. The name almost sounded like a curse to him.

His suspicions were confirmed once he locked stares with him. The almost unfamiliar blue eyes he had been having dreams, and sometimes nightmares with. The same dropped eyelids he had fell deeply in love with. The exact same look Castiel had given him the night he left. 

It was shame and fear. 

"Cas," Dean managed to speak, sounding more like a plea and a whisper than he intended to. 

Castiel's expressions were not so much different than his; he looked like he was holding his breath in disbelief, and his eyes couldn't leave the hunters bloody and beaten figure. He could barely recognize the sight of his old lover. He seemed broken, and his soul; it hurt to see it. His soul was damaged beyond repair, but it was still bright. 

"Untie him."

It was the first thing Castiel said. Dean shivered when he heard his voice; it was still the same, the deep and rough tone, but staying so long without hearing it, felt like the first time again. The eye contact stayed firm as Castiel ordered again.

"But,"

"Now."

And they did. His wrists and arms were free, but Dean still felt like he couldn't move. 

"Leave. All of you."

And suddenly, all of the angels disappeared, flew away like they always did. Dean realized he was all alone with Castiel now, and it almost made him want to run.

"Dean," Cas mumbled, more to himself than to the hunter. He approached the kneeling man with careful and slow steps. "I-I can't believe," 

"Neither can I." Dean said, glances still locked tight. 

The floor under his knees swayed as the angel stood in front of him, taking the kneeling position as well, having the same eyes level as the beaten hunter. Warm hands met Dean's bruised jaw, grasping deeply. The hunter winced and closed his eyes for the first time, only then realizing his tearful state. Tears ran down and washed the blood in the way. 

"I'm so sorry." Castiel whimpered, his head tilted to the side, taking noticed of Dean's every injury, the one on his body and the ones in his soul.

The hunter raised his hands to grip the angel's forearms. "No, Castiel." He pulled his lover's hands from his face, slowly, and every touch lost stung more than all of the cuts in his skin. "You're not sorry,"

Castiel's frown deepened. 

"You just feel," Dean searched for the words while scanned through Castiel's face. "Guilty."

"I do too." 

"You left."

Saying those words directly to Cas made his pain be substituted by a sudden rush of anger.

"I did." Castiel admitted. His blue eyes dropped to his own thighs, shamefully. 

Dean nodded. "Did you know I was looking for you?"

The angel didn't respond, but maintained his head low. 

"You did." The hunter confirmed. "You did and you probably saw it all. Hell, you probably watched,"

"I didn't, Dean." Cas interrupted, looking straight at the hunter again. "I swear."

"Your promises are empty to me, Cas." 

The angel nodded. Dean wasn't wrong. He had promised to come back, to protect Dean, and all he did was hide behind an army of angels. Fight this war like it meant his life, when he knew the meaning of his life was actually running out there with a gun in the belt. He didn't watch Dean, but he felt him. He felt every single slash and bruise his soul took, he felt the heartache that no angel should be able to feel. It killed him everyday to realize he was the reason behind it all.

"You're right, Dean." Castiel attempted to touch his lover again, hoping Dean would reject it again. 

And he didn't.

His hands met the hunter's bruised fingers.

Dean hated himself for allowing the angel to intertwine their fingers, but it felt too damn good of a relief to be able to actually feel something again. He'd been numb for so long. He closed his eyes and sighed, granting his mind's wish to hold Cas' hand. He grasped it, like his life depended on it. Cas brought their hands up, fingers hovering on one another in front of their faces. Castiel took notice of the slight mark on Dean's fingers, where once it rested a ring. The ring he gave Dean on their first anniversary. 

Dean perceived Castiel's thoughts and proceeded to take his other trembling hand to his neck and pull the string of his necklace, exposing the ring dangling from it. Castiel's expression seemed to deepen more with sorrow. 

The angel brought Dean's fingers to his lips. "I failed you." He spoke against the hunter's skin.

Dean didn't disagree, but he felt the weight of the words hit his heart.

"I failed us. I was so worried about you being hurt or killed, I was blind."

"And I was lost." Dean whispered. 

"I know. Every day I thought of you, Dean. There wasn't one single day you didn't came to mind."

"Then why you never showed up?"

Castiel whimpered, low on his throat, like he always did when he was sorrowful. "I was afraid. Afraid you would hate me. I was scared to see what I did to you."

Dean leaned back, taking Castiel's hands for once, and bringing them upon his lap. His thumb stroked the angel's palms. A tear fell in Castiel's thigh; Dean didn't need to look up to see the angel cry. 

"You see me now." 

And then he looked up, and smiled. He knew he had blood in his teeth, and his eyes swollen from the beating, but he still did it, and the angel took sight of it, consumed like his life depended on it.

"Am I that bad?" 

And the angel smiled too. 

"You're still bright, Dean."

Cas brought his hand to touch Dean's cheek. He healed him, while Dean felt the angel's grace run through his body to make any damage repair. His chest still ached.

Castiel's hands never moved from the hunter's face. Dean leaned into his touch, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of being loved all over again. 

"Can I kiss you?"

Dean forgot his heartbreak for a second, and his whole body tingled as his mind begged for the intimate touch. The angel's blue eyes took his soul, stole his heart again, and there was nothing he could - even if he wanted to - do about it. 

"Please."

It felt like the first kiss. Light, hands awkwardly trying to grip each other, warm lips clashing in a gentle encounter, hearts beating fast, even though Castiel shouldn't even possess a heartbeat. The silence around them made Dean want to fall asleep, peacefully inside Castiel's kiss and touch. The angel wanted to consume his lover's soul and fix it, heal every piece of it that was twisted because of him.

Dean felt like he was home again.


	8. threat

Dean didn't know how Castiel managed to explain to the entire army of angels why he didn't kill him. 

Dean didn't know how he would explain to Crowley that he would not kill the angel army's leader, because he was in fact, his lost lover.

All that Dean knew is that Castiel felt so good like this, skin on skin with him, on the hotel's soft mattress, contrasting with his rough hands and gentle touches. All Dean knew is that Castiel still loved when he kissed his neck and bit his collarbones. He knew every touch that would make the angel shiver. He knew neither of them ever wanted to leave this place. He wished Cas could freeze the time, and remain under him forever, where he belonged. 

"What do we do now? We both got Heaven and Hell behind us." Castiel questioned, head resting upon Dean's naked chest.

"As long as I'm with you, I don't care."

•

When Dean failed to update, the king of Hell decided that he would show up himself. His demons couldn't get ahold of Dean, not even track the hunter. Crowley's suspicion only started to rise when the angels were heard complaining that their leader's whereabouts were also unknown.

Dean wasn't caught off guard, or at least he thought he wouldn't be. He knew that creatures of Hell would chase him until he came up with a brilliant explanation. Castiel drew symbols on their hotel room walls, making the place powerfully warded, and also branded Dean's ribs with a spell. 

Unsurprisingly, in a cold afternoon, Dean got a call from the familiar three-digit number. When he picked up, he was expecting an angry, furious Crowley. However, he was calm and that made his stomach burn.

"Hello."

"Dean, finally, so lovely to hear from you,"

Castiel was sat by the edge of their bed, flipping through some book that he found on the nightstand. Dean glanced at him, amused at his lover's quirks. He was glad that Castiel still was the same soul that he fell in love with.

The demon's voice pulled him back inside an anxious place in his mind. "Anyways, I'm calling to know, how is the angel hunt going?"

The angel seemed to feel his partner's discomfort as he ditched the book to watch the hunter pace, his phone in a tight grip against his ear. "Awesome. Been pretty busy."

Castiel glared with a questioning look, head tilted. Dean put the phone on speaker and mouthed "demon". The angel stood up and intentionally stared at the screen, as if looking straight through Crowley's face. 

"You failed to report." The accent was thick in his voice. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, I don't know where the leader is so, what's the point?"

"Do you want to rephrase that?"

Dean's blood ran cold. "What?"

"Dean, I'm the bloody king of Hell." Dean looked up to lock eyes with Castiel. The angel could see the cold colors that his damaged soul took. "Do you really think I would believe in this type of crap you're giving?"

When a tense silence took the dialogue, Crowley continued. "The leader is out and about, no where to be found, and so are you. Angels are saying he disappeared after a hunter breaking in a base."

"Ain't that a bitch." Dean spoke, tone completely opposite from the rushed beating of his heart.

"Who do you think you are?" Crowley spat.

"The deal is off." 

The demon scoffed audibly, a smile could be heard in his tone. Dean swallowed. "That's where the fun begins. Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"I'll have something that will make you rethink that decision."

Dean searched his mind for anything that the king could have against him. Castiel remained silenced, but his expression showed anger.

The hunter's breathing failed as he realized it, just before Crowley spoke again. "Stanford, I have some demons there, did you know?"

"Don't you dare."

"Already did. Your brother and I met." 

Dean felt the urge to break the phone inside his hands. He forgot every presence in the world and focused on the image of his brother, trapped under the grips of demons. His blood boiled. 

Castiel saw his soul turn crimson. 

"Must say, the Winchesters got an attitude."

"If you hurt him, you're a dead man walking."

"Demon, actually. King. Meet me in my palace tonight, or Sam won't see light of day anymore."

The hunter was paralyzed. 

"Oh, and bring the angel."


	9. plans

Dean was never good on making plans. 

He impulsively entered the old building, too familiar for his liking. He shoved past the demons that stood in the doorway, ignoring their victorious smirks and how it made his blood hot like fire. The corridors seemed torturously longer than the last time he had been there.

Crowley sat proudly in his dirty throne, dark eyes following Dean's steps as he crossed the big room to meet him. The poorly lit place showed no signs of Sam or his whereabouts. Dean's heart throbbed, imagining his brother inside that place, scared and confused. 

"Glad to have you back." The demon said, accent echoing. 

Dean was quick to ask; "Where's my brother?" 

Crowley smirked. "Always in a rush, huh?" He stood up, matching his standing position with Dean's. "Where's the angel?"

Dean's breath failed as he struggled to maintain the ground steady beneath his feet. "Outside. Your demons just took him." He spoke, hoping his voice wouldn't fail.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Ask them."

Crowley made a gesture, locked eyes with a demon and waited. Castiel arrived, circled by demons, wrists bounded inside handcuffs that had Enochian carved in them. Dean concentrated on the demon's face, not allowing himself to look at Castiel.

"Hm." Crowley hummed amid the sounds of struggle coming from Castiel. "So, I'll assume the rumors about you two aren't true. You just served him up in a platter for me." 

The hunter tensed up, impatient. "Where's Sam?" 

Crowley nodded to another one of his demon servants and waited, until the door at the end of the room roared, welcoming the sounds of Sam's stumbling steps and his muffled voice, muttering Dean's name.

Dean turned around to see Sam, bounded by chains that dissipated with a snap from Crowley as he approached. "Sammy," Dean whispered, rushing to his brother and holding his structure as if it would collapse. "You alright?" 

"Yeah." Sam replied, eyes traveling around the room, finding the demons and Castiel. Aside from the tired look on his face and the confusion that shimmered in his eyes, the younger Winchester wasn't hurt.

"Let's go." Dean muttered. 

"But, Cas," Sam stared.

"Don't worry. Come with me." Dean whispered. 

The brothers trailed in a rush to the door, ignoring the looks from the evil creatures that surrounded them. Sam obeyed his brother, following along his brother's footsteps, while Crowley's voice echoed inside the room. "Pleasure making business with you, Dean."

"Go to Hell." Dean turned. Castiel was facing his way. A small nod from the angel assured his ground.

"Oh, I rule it."

The big door was shut and Dean was quick to reach the inside of his jacket, gripping a can of spray paint inside his trembling hands.

Sam stopped. "What are you doing?"

Dean didn't answer right away, but instead used the paint to draw on the dirty, rotting walls. The drawings were clear as day on his head, the curves and sharp lines playing in his mind like the albums he listened to every single day. Sam watched, confused, but glanced around, giving Dean cover.

"Those symbols make Cas stronger." The hunter spoke, finishing the last drawing he needed to. "This place was full of those, but to make Cas weaker. I blocked them on my way in. Those will take care of those freakin' demons."

Dean was never good on making plans, but Castiel was.

"Rule this, Crowley." He whispered to himself as the building started to shake.

Sam grasped Dean's sleeve, a sweet younger brother reflex. Demons began to appear from the edges of the hallways, flooding in like water. Dean smiled to himself, knowing that Castiel was responsible for the minor quake inside the building. He pulled an angel knife from his coat and tossed Sam the demon knife that was in his belt.

"It kills demons." 

Enough said, Sam was the first one to stab one of the creatures. The demons yelled and one by one, they collapsed from the Winchester's blows, dying on the filthy concrete with the cursed knifes carved inside their vessel's. 

Dean waited for more to come as he killed the last one and turned around, watching Sam wince at the sight of blood that bathed his own clothing.

"Damn, you're good at this."

"Maybe it's a family thing."

The place began to shake harder, to the point that small bits of concrete fell from the ceiling and the ground failed to stay firm. "We should leave, now!"

The brothers ran until they were outside, facing the cold breeze and listening to the old construction deteriorate under the power of an angel. Dean's angel.

They couldn't know how much that lasted, but soon, all the windows were broken, making shattered glass rain on top of the Winchesters. Dean recognized a bright light began to increase from the inside, turning the misty afternoon into a bright morning light.

"Close your eyes, Sammy." He demanded and they did so, kneeling down on the floor covering their heads and waiting for the blinding light to fade away. 

Dean only opened his eyes again when he felt Castiel's hand plant on his shoulder, and Sam's voice echoing words of relief.


	10. all the things he loves

Dean found the ring deep inside the glove compartment, smiling as he grasped the dusty piece of silver and showed it to Cas. "Found it!"

The angel smiled, his head thrown back against the Impala's shotgun seat. Sam glanced up for a second, focusing back on the stack of papers in his hands and flipping through a newspaper in the backseat.

"I never took mine off." Castiel lifted his hand, showing the shiny ring. 

"Even Heaven must know you're mine." Dean smiled and started the engine, listening to all the sound he loved the most; the engine's roar, his music on the radio, Sam's quiet, safe breathing and Castiel's laugh. 

"Guys, I found something," Sam interrupted, drawing the couple's attention. "Get this-"

The road ahead felt smooth, aside from eventual fighting, celestial and demonic wars, bloody injuries and many other downsides that their new lifestyle could bring, Dean felt like he wouldn't have it any other way.

Day on the highways, night on hotel rooms, quietly loving Castiel with words that he held back for a year after his angel left. Everything was simpler when he was right there, being able to grasp with his two rough hands all the things he loved the most. Castiel's grace illuminated the room as they kissed, trailing towards the bed with stumbling pace. The angel laughed when the hunter reached for his tilted tie.

Demands of kissing and touching were thrown around and no Heaven or Hell could take them apart again, and even if it did, Dean and Castiel would find their way back to one another, like the Universe wrote it, like the carvings in their rings promised.


End file.
